A Winter's Wish. Alice Ross

jolted her back to the present. Blinking back yet another round of tears, she sucked in a fortifying breath before beginning to clear away the remainder of the breakfast dishes, suddenly aware that her every move was being monitored by a pair of dark canine eyes from a basket in the corner.

      ‘Well,’ she announced, ‘in the absence of any better ideas, Mr Pip, I think we should go for a walk, don’t you?’

Chapter Five

      Snuggled under her duvet on Monday morning, Ella gazed at the freshly printed photograph and heaved a satisfied sigh. She trawled through the internet every day just in case any new pictures had been added. Last night’s discovery was particularly delicious. A head-and-shoulder shot, against a dazzling white wall. She’d add it to her secret scrapbook later, but for now she just wanted to savour it. To drool over the divine bone structure, the jet-black hair, the smouldering dark eyes. Eyes that reduced her insides to mush every time he looked at her.

      Ella couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d fallen in love with Jake O’Donnell, but she suspected it might well have been the first time she’d ever seen him. It had been in the newsagent’s a couple of years ago, not long after he’d arrived in Buttersley. She’d heard rumblings of a famous author moving to the village of course, but hadn’t been particularly interested given her indifference to all things bookish. She much preferred the celebrity magazines she’d wandered into the shop specifically to purchase. She’d been browsing the meagre selection offered by old Mr Russell, the owner, when in marched a tall man with jet-black hair, a wide, stubbled jaw, razor-sharp cheekbones and just about the broadest shoulders Ella had ever seen. So devastatingly gorgeous was he, that he’d literally taken her breath away. Glued to the spot, she’d gawped as he’d whipped up a couple of packets of mints and a copy of The Guardian, exchanged a few cheery words with Mr Russell at the till, then whisked out. It was several seconds later before she’d managed to pull herself together.

      ‘Well, now,’ old Mr Russell had said, peering at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles as, in something of a trance, she’d shuffled over to the counter and began rummaging in her bag for her purse, ‘what do you think of Buttersley having its very own celebrity?’

      Ella had furrowed her brow, her head still reeling from that glorious vision.

      ‘That was Jake O’Donnell, the famous writer,’ he added, with obvious triumph at being able to impart this succulent piece of information. ‘A very welcome addition to the village, I think.’

      ‘Oh, absolutely,’ Ella agreed. But probably for quite different reasons.

      Unfortunately, as she still attended school in Harrogate during the week, her sightings of Jake had been few and far between over the next couple of years. But every time she did catch a glimpse of him – even if he just drove past – her heart would skip a beat and her pulse would soar. And that’s as far as she’d ever imagined her adulation would stretch – admiring her hero from afar. Until she started working at the tearoom …

      Back in July, she’d been in the courtyard struggling to collapse one of the parasols on the wooden picnic tables. Hunkered underneath it on the table, she couldn’t budge the pin but there was no way on the planet she was going to ask for help from the one other member of the waiting staff. Growing up with four brothers, Ella hated asking boys for anything: a) because they never let you forget it, and b) because she deemed herself as capable as any male.

      Crouched on the table, she was attempting to devise a new pin-budging strategy, when, to her astonishment, a familiar jeep pulled up next to her and out popped Jake O’Donnell. It had been a couple of months since Ella’s last sighting of him. He’d been on the opposite side of the high street to her. In a sharp navy suit he’d looked like he’d stepped straight off a Parisian catwalk. Now, in faded jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, hair all dishevelled, jaw sporting at least three days’ worth of stubble, he looked completely different – but equally as delectable. So much so, that Ella’s breath caught in her throat, her heart rate rocketed and her bent legs turned to cotton wool. As he’d marched over to her, she’d clung on to the parasol as if her life depended on it.

      ‘Got a problem there?’ he asked, grinning.

      Somewhat star-struck at being so close to the object of her long-held desire, anything remotely resembling vocal communication deserted Ella. In the absence of any alternatives, she’d nodded.

      ‘Is it the pin?’ he asked, sticking his head under the shade and narrowing his eyes at the offending item. He was now so close Ella could smell his minty breath. Terrified she might keel over, she tightened her grip on the pole.

      ‘We have the same problem with ours at home,’ Jake ploughed on, evidently oblivious to the effect his presence was having on his number one fan. ‘You’d think they’d have come up with a better design by now, wouldn’t you? If you come down, I’ll have a look if you like.’

      He withdrew his head and held out a hand to her. Ella gaped at it for a few seconds before realising, with an acute stab of embarrassment, that it would be weird to stare at it for a second longer.

      ‘Um, thanks,’ she mumbled. Placing her hand in his, a dart of something she’d never before experienced zipped down her spine. Her hand remained in his as she clambered down from the table, ending up just inches away from him.

      ‘I don’t think we’ve met before,’ he said, dark eyes boring into hers. ‘I’m Jake. Annie’s husband.’

      ‘Ella,’ she muttered, unable to tear her gaze from his. ‘Ella Hargreaves.’

      ‘Hi, Jake,’ said Dan, the waiter, sauntering through the tearoom door and shattering the most divine moment of Ella’s life. ‘I was just coming out to see if Ella needed any help. Are you looking for Annie?’

      Jake nodded as he released his hold of Ella’s hand. ‘I am. I’ve tried calling here but the line is constantly engaged. And her mobile’s totally dead.’

      ‘We’ve had a stream of suppliers ringing in,’ informed Dan, who Ella could, at that moment, quite happily have strangled. ‘And Annie dropped her mobile in the cake mix earlier. She did mention something about going to Miranda’s to drop off some balloons for a party they were organising, though.’

      ‘Ah. Right. That explains that then,’ said Jake, shaking his head in mock despair. ‘Well, sorry to bother you. Lovely to meet you, Ella. I’ll no doubt see you again.’

      God, I hope so, Ella resisted replying.

      ‘I’m really sorry about Jake barging in like that yesterday,’ Annie had apologised the next morning. ‘He’s on a deadline with his latest book so he’s a bit hyper.’

      ‘It was no problem,’ Ella had replied. Because it really hadn’t been. Admiring Jake O’Donnell from afar had been one thing, but meeting him face-to-face, in all his dishevelled, unshaven glory; being so close to him she could smell his breath; having him wrap his hand around hers, had stirred something in her she hadn’t known existed. Something fluttery and exciting. Something that made her tingle from head to toe.